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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24453790">The Degree of Giving</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueColours/pseuds/TrueColours'>TrueColours</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Divergence, Claustrophobia, Declarations Of Love, Drowning, Electrocution, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rescue, Torture, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:36:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24453790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueColours/pseuds/TrueColours</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac wakes up in the dark, bound hand and foot in a metal box.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Degree of Giving</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainbluebear/gifts">captainbluebear</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A birthday fic for captainbluebear, who wanted vulnerable Isaac and protective Scott.</p><p>I more-or less ignored canon continuity and cherry-picked the parts I found compelling.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>The degree of loving is measured by the degree of giving. </strong>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <strong>– Edwin Louis Cole</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Isaac wakes up in the dark, bound hand and foot in a metal box.</p><p>It’s not quite dark in the box. He can see that the top of it is so close to his face that his breath makes mist on the metal. He wriggles, and his arms brush metal on either side. He tries to lash out, to kick, and finds himself bound with cables that dig into his ankles and wrists.</p><p>His heart rate is climbing so fast that it’s making him dizzy. Or maybe that’s because he can’t get any air. He can’t get any air –</p><p>He knows the techniques for managing claustrophobia – knows them, even if he’s not good at using them – but they’re not working this time, because this time he hasn’t lost his memories, and he knows damned well how he got here. Gerard Argent has caught up to him somehow. The Argents’ men must have jumped him on his way into town, and now he’ll be in the basement of one of their safe houses.</p><p><em>You’re not really trapped </em>doesn’t work. He is.</p><p><em>Someone will hear you and let you out soon</em> doesn’t work. They won’t.</p><p><em>You won’t really run out of air </em>doesn’t work<em>. </em>He might.</p><p>‘No,’ he says, ‘no, <em>no, nonononono…</em>’</p><p>The walls of the box seem to be crushing in tighter, and who’s to say that that’s impossible? This is the nightmare come true, worse than the trauma that caused the nightmare in the first place. He’s tied up in a box.</p><p>Isaac screams. He screams like he can blast the lid off the box by screaming. He screams in the hope that it will spark enough pity to make his captors let him out. He screams because it distracts him from the horror. Every time he falls silent, the claustrophobia goes creeping and buzzing through his chest until it sets him screaming again.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It takes a long time, but he starts to think around the panic. There’s only so much adrenaline his brain can pump into him before it just runs out.</p><p>
  <em>Oh God oh God there’s no fucking space</em>
</p><p>‘Let me out!’ he screams. ‘Let me out!’</p><p>The spaces between the bouts of panic are getting longer. He tries to piece together his thoughts while bits of his brain jibber at him like ghosts.</p><p>They’d been hiding well out of town, across the county line in Fairvale. Him and Derek and the pack. Trying to stay out of the Argents’ way, and trying to get things to simmer down before they blew up into an all-out turf war. Scott had finally given in and joined them a few days before.</p><p>
  <em>There’s no fucking space I can’t breathe I can’t breathe</em>
</p><p>Gerard had made Scott’s truce with the Argents unworkable; was on his way to making life unliveable for even the normal citizens of Beacon Hills with how he was seizing control of everything in his little crusade. Erika and Boyd were all for cutting their losses and moving on, but with Scott it was <em>my mother</em> and <em>my friends</em> and <em>the innocent people he’s going to take with him if he keeps going</em>…</p><p>‘You have to let me out!’</p><p>…and Isaac doesn’t care about this town any more than this town cares about him, but he cares about Scott, so he volunteered to go scouting and see what the whole pack of them together can do, and Derek had agreed that that kind of mission might toughen him up…</p><p>And then he’d gone and got himself jumped. Useless, useless, worse than useless…</p><p>‘Hello, Isaac.’ The voice, a man’s voice seems to come from a long way away. ‘We’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s alright.’</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Gerard’s plan is going well. Almost too well.</p><p>The word on the street about Isaac Lahey was good. He’s come round to find himself in a tight space, and he’s panicked, very loudly. It’s the perfect way to get him softened up without having to ride roughshod over the Code. But it has been a fair while, and he hasn’t <em>stopped</em> panicking. They haven’t been able to put a single question to him over all the snarling. Gerard’s team are starting to shuffle from foot to foot. Next thing you know they’ll be checking their phones.</p><p>It doesn’t bother him personally. He’s got a hunter’s patience, and he knows that a little waiting doesn’t signify. They’ll get the location of Derek Hale’s new den out of this beta sooner or later, and if the Hale pack decide to mount some kind of rescue mission, so much the better. Let the prey come to them. But Gerard is conscious that as the leader of this hunt, he’s playing to the gallery. People these days expect a hunt to play out like a television drama. They’ve hauled the werewolf in, and now they expect to see him questioned. They don’t expect to wait about for hours on end while he screams himself out.</p><p>Gerard makes a show of checking the dials on the generator, making sure that they’re pumping the absolute optimal amount of electricity through their captive, no more and no less. He conveys with his body language that this interrogation is unfolding according to schedule.</p><p>It’s a long, tedious while before the werewolf settles for any length of time. Each time Gerard thinks he might have finally worn himself out, he just stills long enough to catch his breath and then goes right back to screaming. But at last he’s quiet for such an extended length of time that Gerard decides it’s worth starting in with the questions.</p><p>He throws an almost conspiratorial glance around the room at his hunters. They all pull themselves back together with quickening interest as Gerard slowly approaches the coffin and leans in close. Although Isaac Lahey can’t see him, he can’t help but play-act as though he can, leaning his weight on the coffin lid as though it’s the polished bar-top in some gentleman’s club.</p><p>‘Hello, Isaac,’ he says. ‘We’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s alright.’</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>‘Who’s there?’ Isaac calls. Panic laps at his mind like waves, trying to swamp his thoughts, trying to pull him under again. ‘What do you want?’</p><p>‘My name is Gerard Argent,’ the voice says. ‘I think you know me. I’d like to know – ’</p><p>Terror seizes Isaac again, tumbles him over and over and gets its teeth into him. Whatever Gerard was going to say next – and it really is Gerard, it’s Gerard who’s got him, the worst of the worst – is drowned out by screaming.</p><p>But like every swell of fear he’s felt so far, this one ebbs, and seems to ebb faster than those that came before. He supposes he must be getting too tired to panic. Which is a pity; it’s probably better to be incoherent with terror than to answer whatever questions Gerard has to ask.</p><p><em>Useless excuse for a pack-mate</em>, <em>can’t even get scared when it’s useful</em>. But he can’t keep struggling forever. His screams turn to panting, and Gerard takes advantage of the quiet and speaks.</p><p>‘It’s a simple question, Isaac Lahey. We just need a location. Where’s Derek Hale’s hideout?’</p><p>And Isaac’s been here before; he’s well-trained. When he’s in the freezer, he’ll do and say whatever it takes to get out. The answer leaps to the tip of his tongue with horrible ease. But there’s a tiny part of his brain that can think, and it brings him up short.</p><p><em>Don’t give them Scott</em>.</p><p>‘It’s Hale I’m really interested in,’ Gerard says. ‘I’m not too happy with Scott McCall for siding with him, but I might be willing to let him go if he doesn’t put up a fight.’</p><p>‘Did I, did I say that out loud?’ Isaac mutters, more surprised than concerned.</p><p>‘You did.’</p><p>‘Right.’ Isaac licks his lips. ‘Right, I did. You’re a liar…’ His heart is hammering so hard that it’s making him feel sick, but he finds he can think even more clearly than before. ‘You’re a liar, and this, this is an interrogation. An interrogation, okay. It’s okay. You can breathe. It’s just a box. It’s just a box.’</p><p>‘It’s just a box,’ Gerard agrees, ‘but we might have to bury you in it, Isaac, if you don’t answer our questions.’</p><p>Those lapping waves of panic rise up and swallow him again.</p><p>He’s struggling and begging, <em>please don’t, please don’t, please don’t</em>, but again there’s a little bit of his mind that stays switched-on and thinking, as though he’s not as deep under the surface of the panic as he was before.</p><p><em>Please just tell him</em>, the frightened boy in the freezer inside him begs. <em>We’re not heroes, please just tell him, I want out</em>.</p><p>‘Do you think he’s going to let us go if we talk, you stupid kid?’ Isaac shouts.</p><p>‘I’m a man of my word, Isaac,’ Gerard says. ‘Tell me what I need to know, and out you come.’</p><p>‘I’ll talk if you let me out,’ Isaac tries. ‘I can’t <em>think</em> – ’</p><p>‘You don’t bargain, Isaac. You talk, or I put you in the ground.’</p><p>‘Alright.’ Isaac fights back another pulse of terror. Gerard’s stupid voice actually helps. ‘Alright, I figure it like this. I talk, and you don’t need me. You put me in the ground for real. You can’t do that until I talk, though.’</p><p>‘Can’t I?’ Gerard asks.</p><p>‘You’re a liar,’ Isaac repeats. ‘It’s just a box.’</p><p>‘Are you sure about that?’ Gerard asks, and Isaac hears the click of a dial being twisted up to high.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>‘Couldn’t it damage him if you do that?’ one of the hunters asks, when Gerard’s returned the electricity to background levels and Isaac Lahey’s shriek has subsided.</p><p>‘Electricity affects their kind differently to ours,’ Gerard says easily. ‘A current can inhibit their powers. It doesn’t hurt them.’</p><p>‘I’m – I’m sorry.’ The werewolf’s voice comes blurrily through the coffin lid. ‘Are you saying that didn’t <em>hurt</em> me?’</p><p>‘If it gets to be painful, just answer my question,’ Gerard says, and twists the dial again.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>‘Boyd, Erica, pack your bags,’ Derek shouts. ‘We’re blown.’ He turns to Scott and speaks more quietly. ‘Are you coming or staying? Better make up your mind quickly. And I’m not taking your mother or Stiles.’</p><p>‘What do you mean, blown?’ Erica comes tumbling out of the bedroom of the portable house they’re hiding out in, Boyd on her heels.</p><p>‘The Argents have Isaac,’ Derek says roughly. ‘We need to move, now.’</p><p>‘How do you know they have him?’ Scott makes himself very still, refusing to let Derek spur him to frantic activity like he’s trying to do to the others. He ignores the comment about his human pack for now. He ignores the lurch in his stomach at the thought of Isaac in trouble. ‘Maybe he’s just pinned down somewhere. Maybe he’s not answering his phone.’</p><p>‘Deaton saw it,’ Derek says. ‘Saw Gerard.’</p><p>‘When’s that damned vet going to learn to <em>help</em> instead of <em>see</em>?’ Boyd asks. ‘What do you mean, blown?’</p><p>Derek rounds on him with a huff of impatience. ‘Gerard Argent has Isaac, and what do you think he’s going to do with him now he’s got him? The hunters might know our location already. I knew it was a mistake to hide out this close to Beacon Hills. We need to be gone.’</p><p>‘Wait, but how are we rescuing Isaac?’ Erica asks tremulously.</p><p>‘How are we rescuing Isaac?’ Scott echoes.</p><p>‘We can’t,’ Derek says. ‘We’ve got to – ’</p><p>Boyd cuts him off. ‘What do you mean we <em>can’t?’</em></p><p>‘We don’t have the numbers,’ Derek says. ‘If we did we wouldn’t have had to hide out here in the first place.’</p><p>‘We can’t just leave him!’ Erica cries. ‘He’s pack. We have to protect – ’</p><p>‘I’m protecting my pack by not leading us into a fight we can’t win. We don’t even know where Gerard’s taken him; we don’t know how many hunters – ’</p><p>‘If you wanted to protect your pack you’d never have sent him scouting,’ Boyd says. ‘You sent him in because you wanted to see if there was any way you and Scott could take back your precious home town. We should have run straight away like Erica said.’</p><p>‘You think they’re torturing him?’ Scott asks. He doesn’t speak loudly, but all three of them turn towards him. Maybe because what he’s put into words is so horrible.</p><p>‘Yes,’ Derek says quietly.</p><p>‘He won’t give us away,’ Boyd says.</p><p>‘You don’t know Gerard like I do,’ Derek replies. ‘He will.’</p><p>‘We can’t leave him!’ Erica says.</p><p>‘No,’ Scott agrees. ‘We can’t.’</p><p>‘We can’t <em>win</em>,’ Derek says.</p><p>Scott’s phone shrills. Scott doesn’t break eye contact with Derek as he brings the phone to his ear. Boyd and Erica share a frightened glance.</p><p>‘Hello?’ Scott says.</p><p>‘Scott. It’s Chris Argent.’</p><p>‘We’ll negotiate,’ Scott says at once. ‘What do you want?’</p><p>‘I’m not calling on behalf of my father right now. I’ve got an offer of my own for you.’</p><p>‘We don’t have time for your bullshit!’ Erica crowds Scott to get her mouth close to the phone.</p><p>‘I’m offering to <em>help</em>,’ Chris says.</p><p>Scott glances at Derek again and puts the phone on speaker.</p><p>‘Why would you help us?’ Derek asks.</p><p>‘I’m getting tired of the way Gerard runs things,’ Chris says. ‘You all moved yourselves out past the county line. To my mind, that counts as a victory to us. That’s what we were fighting for: to protect this town. So why’s he heading out after you? Kidnapping one of your own, restarting the fight, when I thought we’d won?’</p><p>‘I expect he’d say that it’s his duty to rid the whole world of us,’ Derek says. ‘What about you, Argent? Is it enough for you to keep your town safe? Don’t you have a duty to the rest of the world?’</p><p>‘Maybe I had more time for saving the whole world before my wife – ’ Chris cuts off. ‘We used to go by a code. Now he’s attacking teachers, intimidating my daughter, all to pursue this feud. Enough is enough. Derek? Your so-called pack are kids who you manipulated into this mess. Not all Gerard’s hunters are going to have the stomach for what Gerard’s going to do to a kid. If there’s ever a time to get them out from under his thumb, it’s now.’</p><p>‘You’re overthrowing your alpha?’ Scott suggests.</p><p>‘Call it what you like. Allison’s here with me. We’ll tell you which of our safe-houses Gerard is using, the layout, the likely number of guards and weapons – ’</p><p>‘Give me the phone.’ Derek strides forward and plucks the phone out of Scott’s hand. ‘How do we know this isn’t a trap?’</p><p>‘If you care about your code so much,’ Boyd says, ‘don’t just talk. Give us manpower. Help us.’</p><p>There’s a long pause. Then Chris’ voice comes through the phone again.</p><p>‘Alright. Allison and I will meet you at Twelfth Street. It’s close to where they’re holding him. We can make a plan of attack there.’</p><p>‘Thirty minutes,’ Derek says. ‘We can’t leave him longer.’</p><p>‘Agreed,’ Chris says, and hangs up.</p><p>There’s a long pause.</p><p>‘I’ll call Stiles,’ Scott says. ‘We need a driver.’</p><p>Derek sighs heavily. ‘I’ll call Deaton back,’ he says, ‘make sure he’s ready to receive…’</p><p>‘Casualties?’ Scott supplies.</p><p>‘Sounds about right.’</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>‘Got something you want to say, Isaac?’ Gerard asks. The current drops, and Isaac’s spasming muscles slump with relief.</p><p>Does he have something to say? Isaac’s not sure. If he did, surely he would say it, to make this stop.</p><p>What does Gerard want to know? He struggles to remember. Where the pack is? In Fair –</p><p>
  <em>Careful, Isaac. We’re not saying that, remember. This is for Scott.</em>
</p><p>It helps that he’s been keeping quiet for so long. It’s almost more effort to do something different. It helps that he’s hurting too much to think straight.</p><p>Isaac is bathed in sweat that stinks of fear. He thinks he can feel burns developing on his wrists from the electrified wire, and of course they’re not healing. The constant itch of the low-level current is almost worse than the times when Gerard bumps it up high.</p><p>The tight space of the coffin barely registers any more. Isaac tells himself <em>well done</em>.</p><p>‘Well done for what?’ Gerard won’t shut up. His voice hurts more than ten thousand volts. ‘Some people lift weights, some people sprint, some people withstand hours of interrogation, and it’s all very impressive…but what purpose does it serve? Why torment yourself when you could just talk?’</p><p>‘I talk, you bury me.’ Isaac can only manage a few words at a time right now, at least when he’s talking out loud on purpose. Gerard keeps answering his thoughts, so maybe he’s saying those too. Sneaky bastard, always eavesdropping. ‘You say it’s the other way round, but I know. You’re a liar. Gotta stay alive.’</p><p>‘Stay alive for what?’ Gerard asks. ‘It’s pain from now until you talk or die, Isaac Lahey.’</p><p>‘Liar.’ Isaac licks his chapped lips. ‘Won’t kill me.’ He pauses, thinks. ‘Rescue, maybe.’</p><p>‘Oh, I hope they try it,’ Gerard says. ‘If your pack could have beaten my hunters, why would they have skipped town in the first place? You might make good bait, Isaac.’</p><p><em>That </em>suggestion causes Isaac such a stab of pain that it’s almost a relief when Gerard turns the power up again. The electricity swamps the fear, leaving Isaac’s mind a screaming blank.</p><p>‘You – you’re right,’ he pants, he doesn’t know how many minutes later, when the shock is over and he can speak again. ‘They can’t win. Scott – wouldn’t pick a fight he can’t win.’</p><p>‘Oh, I think he might,’ Gerard says, ‘for the right reason.’</p><p>Isaac shakes his head, sweat dripping into his eyes. ‘Not for me.’ If there was ever a time to be grateful that Scott leads and Isaac follows – and that he hasn’t done anything idiotic to change that balance, like <em>tell Scott his feelings</em> – it’s now.</p><p>Gerard nudges the dial, and the electricity hums, and Isaac struggles until the bite of the cable round his wrists hurts almost as much as the current, but there’s no breaking free.</p><p>‘Come on, Isaac,’ Gerard says, easing the current down a little, but not all the way. ‘What’s the point of enduring all this for people who aren’t coming to save you?’</p><p>‘Buy – buy them – time!’ Isaac stutters. The electricity shuts off, and he slumps with a gasp. That <em>is</em> the point. Thank you, Gerard. Derek’s a survivor; as soon as he knows Isaac’s been captured he’ll have them all running. Isaac can buy them another half hour, another few minutes…</p><p>‘How much time?’ Gerard asks. ‘How many more of these shocks do you think you can take?’</p><p>‘Only need to take one more,’ Isaac says. ‘One…at a time. You must be getting pretty worried, huh? Knowing they’re getting a head start while you’re stuck here with me?’</p><p>‘Alright.’ Gerard’s voice sounds thicker. Isaac thinks it’s anger. ‘One at a time, huh? Try this one on for size.’</p><p>Isaac’s ears are sharp enough to hear the dial twisting further than it’s twisted yet, and he can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t keep taking this, he’s not strong like Derek or heroic like Scott…</p><p>
  <em>Come on, Isaac, one more. For the pack. For Scott. You can do one more.</em>
</p><p>‘Changing your mind yet?’ Gerard asks, and turns the electricity <em>down</em> just to turn it <em>up</em> again.</p><p>‘<em>I won’t give you Scott!’</em> Isaac screams. The current drops, lets him breathe. Damn it, he’s getting tired. This is stupid. He can’t keep hesitating and thinking like this, he needs to <em>make up his mind</em>.</p><p>Where is the pack hiding? Fairvale. So should he tell Gerard that?</p><p>And let Scott get hurt like he’s getting hurt now?</p><p>No. Unthinkable.</p><p>Well, that’s settled. Isaac thinks he might sleep.</p><p>‘Where’s the pack, Isaac?’ Gerard’s voice sounds distant. ‘Are you with me, Isaac? <em>Isaac!’ </em>He thumps the coffin lid, which startles Isaac. It reminds him of what his father used to do.</p><p>‘I won’t,’ he answers. ‘I won’t!’</p><p>‘I think you will,’ Gerard says, and he sounds so smug, like he doesn’t know Isaac’s <em>decided</em>, that it makes Isaac angry.</p><p>‘You said you’d never estimate young love,’ he shouts. ‘Well, I love him. And I’m never going to talk!’</p><p>He feels sure that the axe is going to fall right on the heels of that speech. Because he’s finally realised that it’s unthinkable, impossible for him to betray Scott, and surely Gerard must see it too. And would it really be so bad, if it all ended now, right when Isaac’s the bravest he’s ever been?</p><p>‘Oh, Isaac,’ Gerard says. His voice is thick with scorn, but Isaac thinks he can hear another note in there: a note of genuine frustration. ‘What’s the point of loving somebody who doesn’t love you back?’</p><p>‘You think I need him to love me back?’ Isaac laughs. He can hear the hysteria in his own voice. ‘Like he hasn’t done enough for me.’ He feels drugged, a mile high. ‘You think you can make me talk by putting me in a box? Hurt me all you want and I’ll show you how much I love him! I wish the box was smaller so I could love him more!’</p><p>‘Well, you’re the boss,’ Gerard says. His smug tone can’t quite hide his dismay. Then the dial turns, and the electricity is flowing, and Isaac is screaming, and he can’t make out tone of voice any more, but can’t feel the pain either. He’s floating above it all, being brave, loving Scott.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>‘This is taking too long,’ one of Gerard’s hunters says.</p><p>‘No such thing,’ Gerard replies easily. The last thing he needs is them getting the jitters now. ‘If he gives up his pack, that’s to the good, and if his pack notice that he’s missing and come looking for him, then that’s also to the good. Either way, we get the pack. This process may be tedious, but time is on our side, gentlemen.’</p><p>‘Still, we’re going to start damaging him eventually, aren’t we?’ the hunter says. ‘He’s just a kid.’</p><p>‘They’re tough things, werewolves.’ Gerard brings a hand down heavily on the top of the coffin. ‘Don’t worry. He’ll crack before he comes to any serious harm. Meantime, take a partner and check the perimeter. If his Alpha does come sniffing round, I want plenty of warning.’</p><p>‘Alright,’ the hunter nods. He takes a wan look at the coffin before he heads out the door.</p><p>Gerard watches him go with a grimace. When they get jittery like that, he knows to send them out for a breather. It saves a lot of arguments.</p><p>‘It’s gone quiet in there, boss,’ his second in command says, nodding at the coffin. ‘Reckon he’s passed out.’</p><p>‘Ease off the current,’ Gerard says. ‘Give him a breather.’</p><p>‘Well, what’s the good of this?’ another man explodes. ‘He can’t talk if he’s unconscious.’</p><p>‘Give him a cold splash.’ Gerard’s second picks up the hose pipe that’s coiled in one corner. He turns on the tap with a <em>squeak, squeak, squeak. </em>‘Perk him up a little.’</p><p>Gerard grins. ‘That’s not a bad idea at all,’ he says.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When he feels his jeans getting wet, he thinks he must finally have pissed himself from all the electricity. But the wetness spreads, all up his back until it’s an even pool all around him. When he forces himself to focus through the haze, he can hear it trickling in, echoing against the metal. The hairs on the back of his head start to stir very slightly as the water gets deep enough to float them off the bottom of the box.</p><p>‘I’ve got good news for you, Isaac,’ Gerard says. Isaac hears the crack and pop of the cartilage in his knees as Gerard squats down by the head of his coffin. ‘You’ve won.’</p><p><em>What fresh hell? </em>Isaac thinks, but he doesn’t speak. He’s done talking to Gerard. Talking to Gerard is stupid and exhausting.</p><p>‘I said you’ve <em>won</em>.’ Gerard slaps a hand down on the top of the coffin. The impact reverberates through the metal, through Isaac’s skull. ‘You didn’t break. I really thought you would, but you didn’t. Your alpha’s safe. You should be proud.’</p><p>Isaac shakes his head from side to side, sucking in breath through his teeth. He can’t make sense of what Gerard’s saying. He can barely string the words together, let alone understand them. The water tickles him wherever its rising surface laps against his skin.</p><p>‘Of course,’ Gerard continues, ‘since you really won’t talk, that means you’re of no further use to me.’</p><p>Somehow Isaac’s body finds another spike of adrenaline to send through him, hauling his brain back online. Drowning, the sick bastard’s threatening to drown him, just like he threatened to bury him before.</p><p>‘You can’t kill me, you son of a bitch!’ Isaac shouts. His voice sounds like broken glass. ‘For fuck’s sake, I know you can’t kill me; you’ll never get what you want if you kill me.’</p><p>‘Ah, but Isaac, you told me you’d never talk.’ He can hear the jovial amusement in Gerard’s voice, picture his smile as clearly as if it was right in front of him. ‘And I believe you. So what’s the point in my keeping you?’</p><p>‘No!’ Isaac gasps. ‘No – ! No – ! No – !’</p><p>‘Which is it, Isaac?’ Gerard asks, louder. ‘His life or yours?’</p><p>‘<em>Never!’ </em>Isaac chokes out. It seems to take his last little bit of courage to say it.</p><p>‘Are you sure?’ Gerard asks, and Isaac hears the click of the dial an instant before the current hits him again, harder than it’s been so far. He screams, his spine arching back, tilting his mouth and nose that little bit further up from the ever-rising waterline.</p><p>‘Seeing your commitment makes me wonder how he’s going to get along without you.’ Gerard cuts the electricity back to background levels. Isaac’s breath heaves. ‘I wonder, would you rather he was inconsolable, or that he wasn’t? I suppose it’s not going to make much difference to you shortly…’ He twists the dial back up to high.</p><p>It hurts.</p><p>It hurts.</p><p>It hurts.</p><p>Gerard is getting impatient. Gerard would like to drown him. And even if he doesn’t, there’ll be struggling and choking and breathing in water and it’ll hurt, it’ll be so scary, Isaac’s so tired. He can’t take more of this, and it only ends in death. His muscles cramp. The water’s lapping at his chin. He knows that the moment he remembers how to speak, the next word out of his mouth is going to be Fairvale. He can’t take another second.</p><p>He screams a name, but it’s not Fairvale</p><p>‘Scott!’ he howls. ‘Scott, Scott, help me, Scott!’</p><p>And though he’s sure it’s only his mind giving him one last bit of comfort, he hears a faint voice answering.</p><p>‘<em>Isaac?</em>’</p><p>‘Secure that door!’ Gerard says sharply, starting to his feet.</p><p>‘Scott!’ Isaac screams.</p><p>‘<em>Isaac, where are you?’</em> the voice calls.</p><p>‘Guns, men!’ Gerard is saying. ‘Don’t watch the box, watch the door – ’</p><p>‘They’re armed, Scott!’ Isaac shouts just as loudly as he can. There’s a shattering sound above his head. A window breaking. A man grunts as though in pain.</p><p>Isaac can’t make out the details of how many are fighting and where they’re placed. He’s struggling to keep his head above water. He’s struggling between the need for Scott to run away and the need for him to win this fight <em>right fucking now</em> –</p><p>‘Scott!’ Isaac screams. ‘Scott, it’s full of water!’</p><p>The snarling intensifies. Scott must have heard him. Then something crashes against the table his coffin is sitting on. The water slops around, slops over Isaac’s face. He inhales, and starts to cough.</p><p>The electricity is still burning him. His lungs feel like they’re tearing themselves apart. He’s going to drown here, on this table, in a foot of water, while Scott is right there fighting for both their lives…</p><p>There’s another crash, and then a slow shift in gravity tells Isaac he’s falling.</p><p>The coffin hits the ground, jarring every bone in Isaac’s body. The frame buckles. He can hear the swish of water spreading across the floor, and suddenly he can breathe. Better than that, the fall has damaged the electrical circuit. That itch in his muscles stops, and Isaac feels a sudden flood of wellbeing, of strength returning, so strong that for a moment it overwhelms all his hurt and confusion. He snarls, and lashes out, and the lid bursts off the coffin and flies clean across the room, burst at hinges and lock. Isaac rolls out onto the floor, coughing and dripping. He tries to get a grasp on what’s going on.</p><p>Gerard is on the ground. It looks like he’s barely conscious. One man has just taken off running; Isaac can see through the door he’s left open, down a hallway; he supposes he didn’t like finding himself in a room with <em>two</em> unbound werewolves instead of one. Scott turns from knocking Isaac’s box off the table and grapples, snarling, with a third hunter. The man’s got a gun in his hand, but Scott’s not letting him aim it. No others in the room, Gerard’s or theirs. Maybe they’re guarding the perimeter. Maybe Scott’s alone.</p><p>Isaac shakes his head. He’s got to catch up.</p><p>‘Isaac!’ Scott exclaims, glancing over his shoulder. He looks back to his opponent and kicks him high in the solar plexus, sending him flying back into the wall. There’s no getting up from a blow like that.</p><p>‘Isaa – ’ Scott says again. The falling man’s hand convulses on the trigger of his handgun. The report thunders off the bare concrete walls. The bullet clips the side of Scott’s neck, and arterial spray fans out from the nick like a shower of rain.</p><p>‘Oh,’ Scott says. He puts his hand to his neck and staggers.</p><p>Isaac finds his feet. He dashes across the room and grabs Scott, pulling him to the floor.</p><p>‘Down,’ he says sharply. Scott crumples with him.</p><p>Isaac feels totally fresh, like somebody’s just wound back the clock five hours, like this is the first crisis he’s faced all day.</p><p><em>Cover the wound</em>, he thinks clearly, and clamps his hand to the side of Scott’s neck.</p><p>Scott’s eyes meet his, round and wild. Isaac puts his left hand on Scott’s cheek and uses it to brace him into the hand on his neck.</p><p>There’s no staunching a slashed jugular, not in a normal human, but maybe there is for a werewolf. Maybe if Isaac can buy Scott a few minutes, just a few minutes, Scott can heal fast enough to stop himself bleeding to death. Isaac presses harder against Scott’s neck, trying to squeeze the wound shut with his fingers. His hand is slippery with blood. He doesn’t dare look and see how much blood.</p><p>‘Isaac…’ Scott breathes, still conscious. Would a human be unconscious by now? How long does it take? Isaac doesn’t dare look at the blood.</p><p>‘Scott,’ he says. ‘Scott, can you hear me? I survived this for you, Scott, so you’d better be okay. Don’t you dare waste my time – ’</p><p>A motion at the shattered window catches his eye. It’s Allison Argent, swinging into the room with her bow and arrow.</p><p>‘You – ’ Isaac startles, and his hand nearly slips off Scott’s neck.</p><p>‘Don’t worry, she’s with us.’ Boyd, speaking from the doorway, almost makes Isaac jump out of his skin. People shouldn’t be able to sneak up on him, and the words don’t make any <em>sense</em>, but Isaac can’t move right now, so he just turns his attention back to Scott and lets both of them move closer.</p><p>‘They helped us fight our way in here,’ Boyd says, like he gets that Isaac needs more information. ‘Shit. Is he healing?’</p><p>‘I don’t know,’ Isaac says. His voice comes out a cracking whisper.</p><p>‘Let’s get you both out of here,’ Boyd says gently, bending down.</p><p>‘No!’ Isaac says. ‘Don’t move him until we know he’s healing.’</p><p>‘He’s right,’ Allison says. ‘The blood needs to clot.’ She kneels down carefully beside Isaac.</p><p>‘That pool of it doesn’t seem to be getting any bigger, at least,’ Boyd says with a jerk of his chin, and Isaac finally dares to look where he’s indicating. There’s a pool of blood, but Boyd’s right: it doesn’t seem to be getting any bigger. Isaac lets himself notice the texture under his hand: sticky, almost sealing his palm in place.</p><p>‘You look like shit, man,’ Boyd tells him.</p><p>‘I’m fine,’ Isaac replies. ‘Um, I think I’ll keep my hand here until Scott stops bleeding, and then I’m probably going to pass out.’</p><p>‘Fair enough,’ Boyd says, and moves in close so that Isaac can lean a little of his weight up against him. ‘You had us all worried, Lahey,’ he says quietly.</p><p>‘Isaac?’ Scott says, and stirs.</p><p>‘Shh,’ Allison says at once, leaning forward, placing her hand on Scott’s forehead to keep him still. Isaac redoubles the pressure on Scott’s cheek and neck.</p><p>‘We’re all here,’ Allison says.</p><p>‘Okay,’ Scott says. His eyes flicker open, and then almost closed, but Isaac can still see a dark glitter under his lashes, watching him.</p><p>He doesn’t know how long he kneels there with his hand on Scott’s neck, or how he eventually gets up off the blood-and-water-covered floor and walks out of there. Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe Boyd drags him the whole way. He has a vague impression of the blank-walled corridor, and then the open air, the Jeep, Stiles, before everything slips blessedly into darkness.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Scott comes to in the single hospital bed in the back room of Dr Deaton’s clinic. There’s an IV dripping clear fluid into his arm, and an annoying tightness to the skin on his neck, but his head feels surprisingly clear.</p><p>He sits up a little and looks around, and as soon as he moves Dr Deaton appears, bustling into his field of vision.</p><p>‘Scott,’ he says. ‘How do you feel?’</p><p>‘Uh…’ Scott frowns, shaking his head. ‘Pretty fit, actually.’</p><p>‘I’ve given you three pints of blood,’ Dr Deaton said, ‘but you seem to be recovering well on your own, as usual. It’s been hypothesised that werewolves replenish red blood cells faster than ordinary humans, in addition to their other healing factors, or perhaps that they store a large than usual red blood cell reserve in the spleen – ’</p><p>‘Yeah, okay.’ Scott calls him off. ‘What happened?’</p><p>‘Well, the rescue was a success,’ Dr Deaton replies. ‘Isaac, Allison and Vernon were able to keep you from losing too much blood.’</p><p>‘I remember,’ Scott murmurs, and he does. All that, and the mission had ended with Isaac bending over him, not the other way round.</p><p>‘The Argents took Gerard,’ Dr Deaton continues. ‘Your pack thought it best to let them deal with their internal affairs. I don’t think they’re especially happy with him.’</p><p>‘You can say that again,’ Scott says. The renewed…alliance? Truce? With at least some of the Argents is something he’ll need to think on in due time, but first things first. ‘Isaac. Where is he now?’</p><p>‘In my room, asleep. I thought he might prefer to wake up somewhere that isn’t a hospital bed. Vernon and Stiles went looking for something to eat, and Erika and Derek are still at Gerard’s hideout, taking care of evidence. There was a CCTV camera – ’</p><p>‘Okay.’ Scott interrupts again. He swings his legs out of bed. Dr Deaton is instantly by his side, holding out a hand as if to try and persuade him back into bed, but Scott finds he’s fairly steady. He stands.</p><p>‘I should go see him,’ he says.</p><p>‘Ah. I’ve got him sedated for right now. He needs rest…’</p><p>‘Isn’t he healing?’</p><p>‘I mean mentally.’ Dr Deaton’s calm expression doesn’t flicker, but his eyes drop for a second. ‘You know what was going on in there before you arrived, Scott. The first, best thing I can do for him is give him some sleep.’</p><p>Scott nods jerkily. ‘I want to see him,’ he says. ‘I won’t wake him.’</p><p>‘Alright,’ Dr Deaton agrees.</p><p>Scott’s never stepped through the adjoining door into Dr Deaton’s living space before, and it feels wrong to do so now, as if he’s breaking the doctor’s neutrality by doing so. But they’ve never maxed out the clinic’s beds before. It can’t be helped. He tries to look around as little as possible as Dr Deaton leads him to his own bedroom and cracks open the door.</p><p>There’s no IV drip or heart monitor in here, and Scott hopes that means that Isaac wasn’t too badly hurt, at least not physically. Isaac himself is hardly visible under the downy comforter that’s pulled right up to his chin. Only his mop of dull blond curls shows on the pillow, and a glimpse of his face. There’s no colour in his skin. Inanimate, he looks too thin. He doesn’t twitch as Scott and Dr Deaton peer into the room, too deep in sleep to hear a thing.</p><p>‘I should never have let him go in alone,’ Scott whispers.</p><p>Dr Deaton looks at him quizzically.</p><p>‘I thought that was up to Derek,’ he says.</p><p>‘I shouldn’t have let Derek let him.’</p><p>‘What’s done is done,’ Dr Deaton says.</p><p>‘Yeah,’ Scott says. ‘Yeah. Damn it.’</p><p>‘Well, come on…’ Dr Deaton starts back towards the clinic. Scott stays put.</p><p>‘I’m going to sit with him,’ he says.</p><p>‘He won’t be awake for a few hours yet.’</p><p>‘I don’t care.’</p><p>‘Well, it’s up to you,’ Dr Deaton says, ‘but you ought to at least have something to eat. If you need anything from me, I’ll be reviewing the CCTV footage – ’</p><p>‘Oh yeah…’ Scott tears his eyes away from Isaac. ‘You mentioned something about that. There was a camera?’</p><p>‘Presumably to record anything useful that Isaac told his captors, yes. Derek found it first thing and sent it with you in the Jeep. It won’t be pretty, but, well. We should probably know what happened. Any information that the Argents obtained, and…how best to help Isaac.’</p><p>‘I’ll watch it,’ Scott says.</p><p>‘Scott.’ Dr Deaton’s face never quite does gentle, but right now he looks intent, and concerned. ‘Scott, I’m…not sure that’s a good idea.’</p><p>‘You said he won’t wake up yet and I should do something else.’</p><p>‘I said that you should rest and eat.’</p><p>‘It ought to be pack,’ Scott says stubbornly, ‘and Derek’s not here.’ He trusts Dr Deaton, to patch them up and to keep their secrets, but he finds that he doesn’t want him watching Isaac’s pain with those dispassionate eyes. Isaac deserves someone who loves him to bear witness. Scott’s sure it’s going to be horrible, but if Isaac could live through it, the least he can do is watch.</p><p>Dr Deaton acquiesces, and leaves him alone in the examination room with the camera and TV. The recording is long. Scott watches it at double speed just to get through it. He turns the volume down too; hearing Isaac scream and scream with no end in sight is just too awful. He plays the video properly whenever he sees Gerard start talking.</p><p>Isaac gives him nothing, and nothing, and nothing. Scott feels like his heart is tearing itself apart with grief and pride.</p><p>Stiles comes in, watches for thirty seconds, says <em>oh God, oh no</em> and leaves. Boyd comes in and sits beside Scott, pressed shoulder to shoulder, the most they’ve ever touched, until the tape plays out, and it helps.</p><p>‘Not your fault,’ Boyd says quietly, when the tape ends. ‘Could’ve been any one of us.’</p><p>‘I know,’ Scott says.</p><p>‘Doesn’t feel any better though, does it?’</p><p>‘No.’</p><p>‘It might help him if you go sit with him,’ Boyd suggests. ‘He’s so gone on you.’</p><p>‘I…Christ. Yeah. I’ll do that.’</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>‘Awake? It’s hard to say for sure,’ Dr Deaton says. ‘A person who wakes up to find themselves sedated is likely to drift off again, sometimes without showing any outward signs at all. That’s the point, of course. We want him to rest for as long as possible. But if he is semi-lucid, he’ll find it reassuring to have somebody in the room with him. In you go.’</p><p>So Scott slips into Dr Deaton’s bedroom and pulls up a chair by the side of the bed.</p><p>He can tell that Isaac’s not as deeply sedated as he was before. He’s fidgeted his neck and shoulders out from under the covers, and he looks tense and drawn, as though he might start awake at a loud noise or a nightmare.</p><p>Will a familiar voice help him sleep more peacefully? Scott hopes so. He’s got some things to say.</p><p>‘Hey, ’Zac,’ he says. ‘I know you’re not really awake…Dr Deaton says you’re kind of drifting in and out, but you probably can’t hear me right now…but that might be for the best. Let me explain.’</p><p>He glances at Isaac’s face, so horribly pale and still on the pillow. Maybe it’s just his imagination, but he thinks Isaac looks a little more relaxed than he did before. Maybe he’s aware of Scott’s voice, even if he can’t follow what he’s saying. Well, that makes this worth it. Scott keeps talking.</p><p>‘We watched the tape,’ he says. ‘The CCTV. Uh…I’m sorry.’ On impulse he reaches out and grabs Isaac’s hand, and this time it’s definitely not his imagination. Isaac’s hand twitches in his, like he’s trying to squeeze back. Scott’s pathetically grateful. Everything Isaac’s suffered through, but it’s Scott who needs his hand held right now. He doesn’t think he could bear to think of what he saw; not without some kind of sign that Isaac’s safe with him now.</p><p>‘I’m sorry,’ he repeats. ‘You’d probably hate for me to see it. But we needed to watch, to learn who was there, their equipment, anything about their plans. We’ll need to talk about it later. I’m sorry for that as well. I’m sure you’d rather just forget it. But there’s something else.’</p><p>Scott reaches out and brushes the hair back from Isaac’s forehead. Isaac stirs, and he could just be moving with the push, or he could be chasing Scott’s hand. Scott clings to that: to the sign that Isaac’s in there, that he’s mending. ‘I probably shouldn’t ask you about this,’ he says. ‘I should ask you to remember today as little as possible. And I definitely shouldn’t hold you to anything you said while Gerard was…’ He pauses, bites back the snarl that rises in his chest, his whole body trying to shake itself apart with sudden fury. ‘But I need to talk to you about it, so I guess I’ll just talk now, while you’re sleeping, and then hopefully I’ll be able to keep the lid on it when you’re awake.’</p><p>He sighs. Shifts his fingers in Isaac’s to feel the fragile web of his skin. There’s a faint ring of red all the way around his wrist, where a few hours ago there must have been deep ligature marks and electrical burns. Scott rubs his thumb over the marks like he can make them fade faster, like he can rub the memory of them away.</p><p>‘You said you loved me,’ he whispers. ‘You said…Isaac. That it was for me. And you need to know…if that was just what you felt to get yourself through it, I’ll never hold you to it, but if you meant it…Isaac, you shouldn’t. You don’t owe me these things. You’re not pack because, because you’re useful to me. You could’ve cracked in the first five seconds and I’d still…’ He cuts off. But Isaac said it, so he can say it too. ‘I’d still love you. And I hope…that now you know I’ll come for you. Every time. I’m not more important than you; you can’t say that. I love you. And you don’t have to earn it.’ He slaps his hands down on his knees, awkwardly trying to underline that little speech. ‘There. Now I promise not to bring this up again. I’m not going to make you relive this just so we can talk about my feelings. But. I said it. So there.’</p><p>‘Scott.’</p><p>Isaac’s voice is so faint that at first Scott thinks he’s imagined it. But then he sees him stir, and in a flash he’s sliding out of his chair, landing on his knees at the head of the bed, leaning close to Isaac’s face to look for any hint of wakefulness.</p><p>‘’Zac?’ he asks. He hears his own voice crack. ‘Isaac? Can you hear me?’</p><p>‘I can hear you,’ Isaac says, a sleepy murmur. His eyes are shut, but his hand twitches faintly, searching. Scott quickly laces their fingers together, and Isaac gives a little sigh. ‘Scott, you…you hurt?’</p><p>‘Healed. Totally. Have you been awake this whole time?’ Scott tries for scolding and falls so short it’s pitiful.</p><p>‘Sort of,’ Isaac mumbles. ‘Dreaming. Heard your voice. It was a nice dream. But sounded like you need me to answer, so…’</p><p>‘I don’t need anything,’ Scott says. ‘You go back to sleep. Rest as long as you need, okay?’</p><p>‘Mmm.’ Isaac frowns slightly, and then his eyes flicker open. Even clouded with sleep and pain, they’re enough to make Scott remember why he’s never got up the nerve to tell Isaac his feelings before. They’re heart-stopping.</p><p>‘I wanted…’ Isaac murmurs, and then trails off for so long that Scott almost thinks he’s fallen back to sleep before he continues. ‘…keep you safe. And you almost…by <em>accident</em>…’</p><p>‘And I wanted to rescue you, and I was the one who had to get carried out of there.’ Scott shakes his head. ‘You saved my <em>life</em>. I don’t know how you were still conscious. Isaac, we can take care of ourselves. You should have talked.’</p><p>‘Would’a killed me if I’d talked,’ Isaac says with a painful smile. Making him talk about it was the last thing Scott intended to do, and he’s going to stop, but there’s one more thing he has to say.</p><p>‘Isaac, if there’s ever a next time…and you can get free by talking…talk. You don’t have to…’ Scott can’t say what Isaac doesn’t have to do. He falls silent and squeezes Isaac’s hand again.</p><p>‘Scott,’ Isaac says, ‘I know. That I didn’t have to. It was a gift.’</p><p>Scott stares at Isaac, pale and barely moving in Dr Deaton’s bed, and he wants to shred all the people who hurt him down to filaments of muscle. But at the same time, hearing Isaac declare that it was all for him – well, it’s awful, but what can Scott do? He can’t wind back time and take the suffering away. All he can do is honour it.</p><p>‘Isaac,’ he whispers, and cups Isaac’s cheek, and leans in close.</p><p>‘Wait – !’ Isaac blurts, when Scott is so close to him that he can feel his lips moving with the word. ‘You don’t have to do that.’ He looks almost afraid.</p><p>‘This is a gift as well,’ Scott says. He leans in, holding Isaac’s eyes until the last second, until their mouths meet, until they kiss.</p><p>It’s not a hard kiss – Scott doesn’t think he could be the slightest bit rough with Isaac right now – but he still hears Isaac’s breath catch and his heart kick into high gear. He brushes a palm over Isaac’s face, stealing a handful of his cut-glass cheekbone, his sleep-tousled hair, before he pulls away.</p><p>‘What made you want to do that?’ Isaac asks.</p><p>‘I’ve always wanted to do that,’ Scott says, ‘since we’ve been friends.’</p><p>‘You never <em>said</em>,’ Isaac says petulantly.</p><p>Scott gets up off his knees and settles himself very carefully on the edge of the bed, so that Isaac can meet his eyes without craning his neck. ‘Things were complicated,’ he says, ‘with my ex, and our packs, and there was always so much danger, and you seemed like you needed a friend…you never said either.’</p><p>‘Obviously.’ Isaac lets his eyes fall shut, as if in exhaustion. Eyes closed, he says, ‘I wanted to do things for you, so that you’d notice me.’</p><p>Half-laughing round the lump in his throat that’s suddenly choking him, Scott replies,</p><p>‘I don’t know if I can stand it if you do anything else like that for me.’</p><p>‘It helped,’ Isaac persists, voice very soft, ‘knowing there was a point to it. That it was keeping you safe…’</p><p>Scott rests his elbow by Isaac’s head, lowering his weight onto his side so that he can curl protectively against him.</p><p>‘Isaac,’ he says, ‘I’d never have let you leave Fairvale if I’d known…I’d make it so none of this had happened if I could…but if you say the pain was for me, then I’ll take it. And maybe I can help you carry it.’</p><p>Isaac rolls suddenly onto his side and claws his arm free of the comforter so that he can fling it around Scott. He presses his face into Scott’s shoulder and <em>clings</em>. Scott can feel all of him shaking. He puts his arms around Isaac in turn and carefully wriggles the comforter out from between them, spreading it over them both.</p><p>This is so much better than all the ways they used to comfort each other before; the quick, brusque hugs and brushed-off concern. This feels right. He should have spoken up so long before.</p><p>Once he’s got them comfortably settled, he puts his mouth by Isaac’s ear and asks quietly,</p><p>‘You said you wanted to do things for me. Can I make requests?’</p><p>‘Yes.’ Isaac’s voice comes out thick and blurred, like it did when he was in deep trance in the bath of ice.</p><p>‘Rest and get well. From everything.’</p><p>‘That’s not for you,’ Isaac protests, ‘that’s for <em>me</em>.’</p><p>‘That’s for <em>me</em>.’ Scott uses the hard voice that makes Isaac listen. ‘Rest and get well.’</p><p>‘Okay,’ Isaac whispers, voice barely there. He pulls himself even tighter against Scott, fingers knotted in his shirt. Scott holds him and brushes his fingers through his hair.</p><p>‘Is it messed up to be happy right now?’ he wonders. ‘That I finally get to hold you?’</p><p>‘I don’t know,’ Isaac mumbles. ‘Will you do something for me?’</p><p>‘Anything,’ Scott vows.</p><p>‘Stay with me till I can get up?’ Isaac asks. ‘It won’t be long.’</p><p>‘I’ll stay with you always,’ Scott promises.</p><p>‘When I…when I thought you were hurt…that was the worst…’</p><p>‘Shh! Don’t think about that, not yet. I healed. I’m fine. Get some more sleep. Rest and get well.’</p><p>‘Okay.’ Isaac relaxes his grip on Scott and settles more gently against him, lifts his face off Scott’s shoulder and lies on the pillow so they’re brushing nose to nose. ‘As long as you stay.’</p><p>Scott only has to tilt his chin forward to kiss Isaac again, very gently on the lips.</p><p>‘I’ll stay,’ he promises again.</p><p>He rolls onto his back, pillowing Isaac’s head on his shoulder. Isaac’s breathing evens out in a few moments, whatever sedative is still in his system pulling him under again. With his warmth all down Scott’s side, it’s almost peaceful, almost safe.</p><p>He’s more tired than he’d realised; tired with hurt and worry and love. It isn’t long before he’s following Isaac down into sleep.</p>
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